


Divide and Conquer

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally published in the zine Good to Go #1 and Ouch! #13 under the pen name Ceder Duel.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Divide and Conquer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Good to Go #1 and Ouch! #13 under the pen name Ceder Duel.

The lush tropical black sand beach evaporated into a whirling pale green mist.  A spirited dapple-gray stallion and a friendly loping dog both faded away into the same mist.  The cool ocean breeze, the erotic aromas of bright red and yellow flowers, the gritty, tickle-like feel of wet sand working its way between his toes deteriorated… Everything disappeared.

Matt Shepherd ground his face into his pillow and moaned into the darkness, but the telephone on his nightstand continued to ring.  "Damn it," he hissed.  "You didn't even let me meet the girl of my dreams," he muttered pitifully, reaching for the receiver.  "What?"

"Matt?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, rolling onto his back and scrubbing a hand roughly over his face to push the last remnants of sleep away.  "What do you want, Trout?"

"We need to talk.  Now."

Matt rolled his eyes, his gaze coming to rest on the water-stained ceiling of his bedroom in the Silver Star.  In the dim light the discolorations looked like phantom spider webs spreading across the stucco.  "I figured as much," he grumbled.  "What's going on?"

"Not on the phone.  Meet me at the twenty-four hour diner up the street in half an hour."

"Yeah, right," Matt agreed.  Trout's voice was as grave as he'd ever heard it.  Whatever was going down, it was serious.  "Should I contact the rest of the team?"

"Not until we talk."

"Okay."  Without a good-bye, Matt rolled over and dropped the receiver back into its cradle.  Climbing out of bed, he automatically checked the digital clock sitting next to the phone.  0231.  _Why can't these emergencies happen at a reasonable hour?_ With a heavy sigh he strode for the bathroom and a shower.

"This better be good," he muttered as he stepped in under the hot spray.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting his empty coffee cup down on the dull-green Formica counter, Matt watched a black limo pull up outside the small beach-side restaurant.  The driver, hidden behind tinted, bullet-proof glass, honked once.  _You do know how to make an entrance, Trout_.

"You want some more?" the bleary-eyed waitress asked, tucking a limp curl of reddish-blonde hair behind her ear.  Cleaned up and well-rested, she might have attracted Matt's interest, but as it was he felt more pity for her than anything else.  He shook his head and fished a five dollar bill out of his wallet, tossing it on the counter.

"Thanks," she called after him as he left.

Walking up to the rear passenger door of the limo, Matt waited while the window whirred down several inches.  Trout nodded at him.  "Get in; we'll talk on the road."

The man's nervous expression and the added security spiked Matt's senses to full alert.  He glanced around, looking for something out of place in the small Hermosa Beach strip mall.  Finding nothing, he walked around the rear of the car and heard the door locks pop as he reached for the passenger door handle.  Opening the heavy door, he slid in and pulled it shut behind him.  The door locks popped down again.

Eyes narrowing, he asked, "What's going on?"

"When we're on the road," Trout replied, glancing anxiously out the window.

The driver pulled out of the parking lot for the seven businesses in the mini-mall and onto the street.  Light from the street lamps strobed weakly as they passed under them, headed for the freeway. 

When they reached the nearly empty 405, the driver set a pace just above the legal limit.  Trout shifted in his seat, meeting Shepherd's curious gaze.  "Have you heard about Yeltzin's return to the hospital?"

Matt nodded.  "They covered it on the news last night, why?"

Trout nodded.  "Matt, before I explain, I want you to know, if you decide to turn me down on this one, I'll understand.  Clear?"

The ex-major's eyebrows arched and his attention focused on Trout's expression.  The older man wasn't just worried, he was frightened, and that scared the hell out of Shepherd.  "I'll keep that in mind," he said softly, wishing he was back in bed and this was all some bad dream brought on by the pizza they'd all split last night.

Trout pulled a small electronic device out of his coat pocket and consulted it.  Then, taking a deep breath, he said, "The word we have from highly placed members of the Russian government is that Yeltzin's dying."

Matt's cheeks puffed as he let out a long breath.  "Dying, huh.  And…?"

"And, given the current instability within the government, there's a high probably that Russia will topple into civil war as soon as the man dies," Trout said, his lips pressing into a thin line of worry.

"Where do we fit into this gloomy scenario?"

The older man leaned forward.  "Have you heard of Vitaly Tavda?"

Matt shook his head, glancing out the window at the nondescript landscape as they rolled north.

"He's a pro-democracy Yeltzin supporter.  The word is he's being groomed to take Yeltzin's place."

"I thought that job was locked up," Matt countered.  "Yeltzin's thirty-something whiz-kid, or–"

"Only in the short term," Trout interrupted.  "It's Tavda who has the support of the new movers and shakers in the Russian government and economy.  He'll be elected when the time is right."

"But that still doesn't tell me why you dragged me out of bed at O-dark-thirty."

Trout studied the man sitting across from him, wishing that he didn't have to ask this favor, but he had little choice in the matter.  "From what we've been able to piece together, when the doctors decided Yeltzin's condition was life-threatening his aides asked Tavda to return to Moscow.  The man's been keeping a low profile, working to ensure the new satellite countries remain democratic and supportive of a non-communist Mother Russia.  He was on his way back when he was… detained, shall we say, by a renegade Russian military unit working for Igor Kular."

"Who's Kular?" Matt asked.

"A mid-level bureaucrat who's been building an ultra-nationalist support network in Russia and several of the satellite states.  And he has known ties to some of Serbia's ultra-nationalists.  It's likely that he'll make a move to re-establish a communist confederation in the region if Yeltzin dies.  Removing Tavda is just one step in his overall game plan."

Matt shook his head.  "If Kular has Tavda, he's probably dead already."

"No.  Kular doesn't have him… yet.  Tavda was picked up a little over two hours ago en route to Tallinn."

"The Estonian capital?"

Trout nodded.  "Tavda has family in Vasalemaa.  He was there when he received the call.  Kular's people picked him up on the road and they're holding him in Tallinn for the time being, waiting for word on Yeltzin.  They don't want to strengthen the pro-democracy forces, or create any unnecessary martyrs.  They'll take him to Kular when it looks like there's no hope for Yeltzin.

"Right now the Russian press is playing down the crisis, but as soon as the specialists start arriving from U.S. and Europe that cover's going to be harder to maintain."

"Where's Kular, do we know?"

"Our in-country assets assure us he's in Saint Petersburg and our Russian friends have confirmed it.  Matt, it's a straight shot from Tallinn across the border to Saint Petersburg.  The Russian government has asked us to stop Kular from getting his hands on Tavda and our government's agreed."

"Why not ask the Spetsnaz to do it?" Matt asked, knowing first hand how well trained the ex-Soviet special operations units were.

"Our intel is Kular used a rogue Spetsnaz unit to pick up Tavda.  There's no way to know who might be compromised."

Matt nodded.  "And we can't send in a SPECOPS unit–"

"Because if the Russian people find out that we're propping up the Yeltzin government with military aid as well as economic aid it'll just play into Kular and the communists' hands," Trout finished for him.

Shepherd sighed.  "So you need us."

Trout nodded slowly, his expression gloomy.  "You're hostage retrieval specialists, Matt.  And there's plausible deniability – for both sides."

Shepherd nodded his understanding, his own expression deadly serious.  Accepting a thin file proffered by Trout, he read and re-read the information contained inside and studied the satellite photos carefully.

When the driver shifted to the 110, heading for Artesia, which would take them back to Hermosa Beach, Matt twisted his neck to force loose the knot of tension that tightened at the base of his skull.  He met Trout's gaze and nodded.  "I'll talk it over with the others, but I really don't see what choice we have."

"I was hoping you'd see it that way," Trout admitted.  "But I'm sorry you did. This isn't going to be easy."

"Nothing's ever easy when it comes to you, Trout," Shepherd said lightly.

The older man allowed himself a thin smile.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Shepherd watched the others slowly digest the information presented in the intelligence file Trout had left with him.  When they were finished he handed out the preliminary mission profile he'd pulled together in the early morning hours before he'd called them.  He folded his arms across his chest and studied each of his operators' thoughts from the expressions on their faces and the posture of their bodies, gauging what kind of support he could count on.

Margo's lips were pressed into a fine line and her shoulders were squared.  She was determined to stop Russia from falling back under Soviet control – no matter what the cost.  Her own history made that option no option at all.  She was already committed, no need to convince her.  That would make things a little easier; the others trusted her opinions, and her convictions.

The deep wrinkle across Chance's brow and his hunched shoulders meant he was calculating the possible dangers they'd face during their EXFIL and not particularly liking the odds.  It was the point when they'd be most vulnerable to attack if any of the ground forces survived the initial ambush – depending upon the weapons they carried.  The pilot's gaze flickered up and down the page, looking for ways to shift the odds in their favor.  He was concerned, but committed.  Better and better.

C.J. chewed on his lower lip, his eyebrows knotted.  Setting up the ambush to stop the expected retinue of Spetsnaz soldiers escorting Tavda back to Saint Petersburg should be reasonably easy given the mountain road over which they'd be moving.  They'd have to rely on claymores to do some of the work, but an ambush would favor them.  Those were both pluses for winning over the ex-SAS demolitions expert.

However, the concern in the man's brown eyes stated clearly that if Matt recognized the targeted location as the best possible site for intercepting Tavda, so would the Russian commander escorting him.  C.J. wasn't committed, but he wouldn't object so long as the rest of the team went along.  That left one man…

Shepherd shifted his attention to study Benny Ray Riddle.  If anyone should balk, it was Benny Ray.  The sniper's casual expression and relaxed posture gave away less than the others, and not for the first time, Matt thought the man's name overly appropriate; sometimes his second in command was a riddle.  But what he was asking Benny Ray to do was more dangerous, more demanding.  And if anything went wrong, he'd be the man stuck on the ground to E&E what was left of a pissed-off Spetsnaz unit.  Still, he'd never seen the ex-Marine sergeant back down or balk at either danger or a challenge.  _I like a good fight is all_ , he'd heard the man say on more than one occasion, and this certainly promised to be one.  And Riddle had to know what it would mean if the communists regained power in Russia.

Benny Ray sensed the scrutiny and glanced up from his copy of the mission profile, a slight tick tugging at his jaw muscles.

Matt's breath caught and held as he waited for the man's answer.

After a pause the sniper nodded and said, "I'm good to go, Boss.  When do we leave?"

Matt sighed softly.  It was a done deal.  "Seven hours, people.  We'll fly out from Edwards to Germany, then straight into Helsinki and ferry across to Tallinn.  That should put us about eighty miles from the intercept point."

The team members nodded, moving off to prepare their gear.

Matt motioned for Benny Ray to join him.  "I need an honest answer," he said softly, keeping the conversation private.

The sniper nodded once.  "You'll get it."

"You need a spotter on this one?"

Benny Ray considered the question before he replied.  "To be honest, Major, it'd be a help.  I wouldn't mind havin' someone watchin' my back, but I can do it alone – no problem… guaranteed."

Matt stifled a grin.  Riddle was a good man, and an even better soldier.  "Anyone out there we can recruit on short notice?"

Benny Ray's eyebrows peaked slightly.  "Dennis Coltrain," he replied a few seconds later, nodding.  "My spotter in Kuwait.  He got out two, three months back."  The sniper grinned slightly.  "Last I heard he was gettin' ready to chew through the walls.  I think he might take the job, he's been goin' a little stir-crazy.  Good man."

Matt flashed the man a smile.  "Sounds like a winner.  I'll see what I can do."

"'Preciate it, Boss."

Matt clapped him on the shoulder and headed for his office.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Their flight was fast and smooth, compliments of the U.S. Air Force, which flew them straight into Germany on a priority MAC flight.  A private jet then carried them to Finland.  The ferry ride across the Gulf of Finland passed equally peacefully for the team on-board an Estonian freighter.  They landed in Tallinn, meeting their Russian guide, who was waiting impatiently for them.

"I expected you nearly an hour ago," he said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Head wind," Matt said.  "Is the chopper waiting?"

The man nodded.  He was on the short side, gaunt and sallow, but with an abundance of nervous energy, his very short grey-black hair almost bristling as a result.  "All is ready, as you asked.  And our people are waiting to notify the press on your schedule."

Matt nodded.  "All right, then, let's get this show on the road."

A short train trip to Rakvere was uneventful, thanks to their Russian escort and the "papers" and other documents he carried, allowing them entry into Estonia and Russia under the guise of Scottish and South African academics.  In the small Estonian city they split up, Chance and the Russian agent continuing on to Kohtla-Jarve by rail to pick up the waiting chopper.  The rest of the team headed back towards Tallinn by automobile along the main surface road running from Tallinn to Saint Petersburg.  While the maps Matt had used showed the route to be nearly straight, the satellite photos had revealed a narrow two-lane road that twisted and turned through rough terrain.  On their own, they relied on their papers and Margo's fluent command of the Russian language to get them past any obstacles they might encounter.  With luck there would be none, except the operators who were their target.

After checking for any other motorists, they stopped along the narrow mountain road, letting Benny Ray and Coltrain out.  Margo popped the trunk and each man quickly shouldered a pack, then grabbed several smaller bundles that held their black combat fatigues, Motorola communications gear, vests, ammo pouches, and weapons.  Benny Ray slammed the trunk closed and the pair climbed up the short but sharp hillside, disappearing into the thick conifer forest that grew up to either side of the road.

Margo checked her watch as the two men melted into the dark shadows.  "I hope they're in place in time."

"They will be," Matt assured her.  "I just hope that news report hits the Russian media on time or we're all going to be sitting out here with nothing to do."

"CNN won't be late," Margo grinned.

Turning in his seat, Shepherd glanced into the backseat.  "You're next, C.J."

"Roger that, Major," the Brit replied, digging through his packs one last time to double-check his stock of explosives.

A short time later Margo stopped the car and the dark-haired soldier climbed out, stopping to remove two crates of claymores from the trunk, then fading into the thick stand of trees like his companions earlier.

Margo continued down the road until they found a wide patch of shoulder where an earlier landslide had carved out a wedge-shaped section of hillside.

"That looks like a good place for an accident," Matt said, pointing.

She nodded and jerked the wheel, sending the car into a slight skid.  The left front tire sank into a gravelly, washed-out section of ground and she revved the engine, allowing the wheel to spin deeper into the loose dirt.

"That should look convincing," she said with a satisfied smile.

Matt nodded.  "I couldn't have done better myself."

"I thought the same thing," she grinned, climbing out and grabbing a plastic spray bottle full of water from the backseat.

Margo misted the surface of the car while Matt scooped up handfuls of dirt, letting it trickle out of his hand, dusting the surface and making the car appear long-abandoned.  He erased their tire tracks with a small whisk broom.

That done, the pair fished their own packs out of the trunks, covered their tracks to the hard surface of the road, then headed back to the ambush site to prepare.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

C.J. worked quickly and efficiently, arranging the explosives he carried.  "Lots of bangs and pretty lights," he said softly, gently patting the last of the diversionary charges before moving to his next task, setting up the claymores.  "Now for the big boom-booms…"

Some of the explosions he planted would be disorienting and confusing, hopefully giving Matt and Margo the time and cover they needed to grab Tavda – with a little help from Benny Ray and Coltrain, who were tasked with eliminating as many of the men guarding the politician as possible.  The rest of the charges were designed to take out as many of the enemy as possible to begin with, giving them the real edge they'd need to pull off the rescue.  As he worked, he absently hummed under his breath.  "If you go down to the woods today, you're in for a big surprise…"

"No pressure," he muttered to himself, "the whole success of this mission just rests in these capable hands."

When he was done about an hour later he touched the transmit key and spoke into his filament mike, saying, "All set, Major."

"Roger, C.J.  Find a position that'll cover the south side of the road like we discussed."

"Roger that."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Having changed into the black fatigues and gear, Benny Ray and Dennis Coltrain hiked up the side of another steep hill, finding a narrow, flat ridge running in the direction they needed to travel that was relatively free of obstacles.  The trees remained a thick tangle of spruce and fir and other conifers, casting dark shadows across the ground and giving them the cover they needed to use the flat terrain and still remain out of sight.  The air was pungent with the thick odor of pine and humus and filled with birdsong that faded and returned as they soundlessly passed by.

Benny Ray set a fast pace, but Coltrain kept up easily.  The spotter was an average built man, slightly on the lanky side.  His short sandy-blond hair still hadn't grown out of the traditional "flat-top and white walls," and his dark brown eyes were set in a face most described as having character, if not exactly handsome.  A year younger than Benny Ray, the Texan was an accomplished spotter and a good Marine.

The comfortable dogtrot carried the two men through the dense trees towards their destination, a rocky outcrop where they would have a clear view of the road as it approached and made a sharp L-shaped curve.  Benny Ray's job, with Coltrain's help, was to neutralize any of the Spetsnaz soldiers C.J.'s claymores left standing while Matt and Margo grabbed Tavda.  Simple enough given that they'd control the high ground and have a perfect line of fire on both sides of the bend.

An odd scraping sound echoed through the trees, stopping the sniper's ground-eating stride.  He signaled and dropped into a low crouch near a tree, immediately scanning the shadows for the source.  Coltrain silently moved up to join him.  The sound echoed through the thick forest again and Benny Ray signaled to Coltrain, the pair moving silently into the shadows, looking for the source.

They stopped in the near-black shade of one large tree, watching a man who crouched on the ground, having just finished striping the hide off of an animal Benny Ray guessed might have been a bear.

 _Poacher_ , the sniper Ray realized as he felt, rather then heard, the attack coming from behind them.

"Riddle!" Coltrain hissed softly through his lip mike as he charged one of the attackers.

Benny Ray turned.  Four men had emerged from the shadows, their expressions anything but friendly.  He saw the knife flash in one man's hand as Coltrain reached him, driving his head into the attacker's chest.  The sharp snap of breaking ribs echoed loudly in the air.  The menace in the man's eyes bulged into an expression of shock as Coltrain's right fist swung up into his crotch.  Breath burst from the man's lungs, followed by a strangled, tortured gasp from his gaping mouth.  The man was thrust back, Coltrain's attack lifting his feet off the ground.

Using the distraction of the fight to his advantage, Benny Ray drew his 9mm Smith & Wesson Hush Puppy, dropping the three standing men while Coltrain finished off the fourth where he lay.

A fifth man had chosen to hide in the shadows, but seeing his companions killed right before his eyes overrode his sense of survival and spurred him to action.  Coming up behind Benny Ray, he raised a curved knife, then drove it down with all his strength.  The blade slid along the side of the sniper's neck, slipping past the protective kevlar vest he wore and slicing through muscle until a rib stopped the downward blow.

Benny Ray snarled in pain, bringing up his elbow and slamming it hard into the man's jaw.  He heard a satisfying _pop_ as bones broke.  The man released the knife and took a step back, his hands coming up to cradle his broken face.  The whispered _chuff_ from Coltrain's automatic sounded and the man dropped to join his companions on the forest floor.

Angry yells from behind them forced Benny Ray into a crouch.  He spun, bringing up the sound-suppressed Smith & Wesson.  The working poacher, his coveralls bloody, stumbled to a stop a few feet away, knife in hand.  The man's angry gaze shifted from Benny Ray and Coltrain to the dead men and back again.  Lips curled off stained teeth and he bellowed something in Russian as he lunged for the sniper and his spotter.

Both men fired simultaneously.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Shepherd settled into position, hidden in the trees and dark shadows alongside the road, then checked his watch.  Hopefully everything was on schedule.  C.J. and the explosives were set and ready to go, that much he knew for certain.  And, if everything went as planned, Chance and their Russian contact would have the chopper procured in a few minutes.  He waited.

Four minutes later there was a single click, followed by Chance's voice.  "Hawk, Falcon is ready  to fly."

"Roger that, Falcon.  Hawk is set," Shepherd acknowledged.

All he needed now was a "go" from Benny Ray and Coltrain.  There were two clicks in his earpiece.  He keyed the communication unit, asking, "All set, eagle's nest?"

"Negative, Boss," was Benny Ray's reply.

Worry plowed deep furrows across Matt's forehead.  The sniper's voice was strained and thick.  Something was definitely wrong.  "What's up, Eagle-One?"

"Contact in the woods," the sniper reported.  "Six tangos down.  Poachers, I think."

"Damn," Shepherd hissed softly.  But he hadn't heard any gunfire, so their location shouldn't have been compromised.

Margo glanced at the ex-major, then keyed her own MX-300 communications unit.  "You?" she asked the sniper.

"Knife wound," Coltrain's voice reported.  "I've got the bleeding stopped and it's dressed, but–"

"It's gonna make acquiring our final position a bit slow," Benny Ray interrupted.

Matt took a deep breath and asked, "Tell me the truth, Eagle-One.  Can you make it?"

"Yes, sir," was the immediate reply.  "Just gonna take me a couple extra minutes."

"Contact me as soon as the eagles land," Matt said.

"Roger that, sir."

The connection went silent and Matt glanced over at Margo his eyes troubled. "Hope he's right," he said.  "If he can't make it into place…"

She nodded.  "This is going to get very interesting, to say the least."

"That's one word for it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fourteen minutes later Benny Ray and Coltrain reached the edge of the trees. Less than thirty yards away was a rocky outcrop and beyond it a sheer drop-off of 140 yards to the road below.  From the tree line it appeared that a giant stone thumb was thrusting up to goose the sky.  The peak would serve as their sniper nest.  They quickly checked both sides and found no ledges leading to the summit.  The slope wasn't too severe, but there were only a few cracks for handholds.

Coltrain went first.  Facing the rock with both hands and boot-soles pressed flat against the slope, he moved carefully, stretching his right leg out, checking to make sure the ground would support his weight, then reaching for a handhold.  Making sure of his grip, he then eased his left leg over beside his right and continued on, repeating the process.  He paused occasionally to break up patches of ground with his boot, making a more secure footrest for Benny Ray before continuing on until he reached the peak.

Crawling over the edge, he found the crest shaped like a shallow bowel.  A nearly smooth dirt surface approximately eight feet in diameter was rimmed by a rocky lip that gave the peak its dome-like appearance from below.  That lip would give the two men plenty of cover from enemy fire while still affording them the space they needed to cover the road below.  Once he was in place, he secured a line around himself and tossed the end down to the waiting sniper.

Benny Ray slipped out of his pack and drag bag, which held his rifle, then secured them both to the line.  He tugged once and Coltrain pulled the equipment up, lightening the load on the sniper's injured shoulder for the coming climb.

A few moments later the rope landed again at Benny Ray's feet.  He secured himself with the line, then started his climb.

The first ten feet went smoothly, despite the pain flaring in his shoulder with each move.  Then he felt his leg slip, jerking his grip free and sending a jolt of agony shooting from his shoulder to the base of his skull, where it exploded into hundreds of white-hot shards of pain that lanced through his chest, shoulder, and head.

As he dropped all he could do was splay his feet outward and pray that friction arrested his fall.  He slid fifteen stomach-churning feet before he felt the rope catch, jerking him to a sudden halt.  A shower of dirt and small rocks pelted him.

"You okay?" Coltrain asked from above.

"Yeah," was all Benny Ray said, but his face was ash grey.

The sniper carefully took out his knife and dug a handhold.  Wedging his fingers into it, Benny Ray crawled upward.  Digging with the knife, climbing, stopping, digging some more, he inched upwards.

After several minutes, Benny Ray gasped, slapping his hand into place, his fingers curling tightly around the rough surface of the rock he was using as a handhold.  Sweat broke out on his head, face, and back and he blinked several times to clear the stinging liquid from his eyes.  His shoulder burned with the effort of climbing, the escalating pain threatening to overwhelm him.

As he neared the top a short time later Benny Ray paused, wishing that his shoulder would let up so he could think more clearly.  His hands were abraded and bleeding and he'd lost one fingernail, but he didn't notice. Forcing several deep breaths, he ground his teeth together and drove himself on for several more feet, then stopped again to rest.  If he pushed his shoulder too far he'd be worthless later on.

"Hey, Riddler, you doin' okay, man?"

Benny Ray nodded.  "Copacetic," he panted.  "Just wanna take it slow 'n' easy.  No more quick trips down."

"Roger that, but we're gettin' short on time."

Benny Ray nodded.  His eyes narrowing with determination, the sniper pushed himself forward, refusing to allow the agony he felt each time he pulled himself closer to the top to slow him down.  Lip curling back off his teeth in a resolute snarl, he fought to continue.

Three minutes later he crawled over the lip of the dome and collapsed, sucking in deep gulps of air.  Coltrain was immediately beside him, untying the line and tossing it aside.  With that done, the spotter reached under Benny Ray's good shoulder, pulling the man into the center of the small space.  Reaching into the medical field kit he carried, Dennis pulled out another four by seven battle dressing, then got to work on the bleeding wound, winding the two long green gauze strips around Benny Ray's shoulder and chest to secure the compress in place.

Once the bleeding was under control, Coltrain quickly checked the sensation in Benny Ray's arm, noting encouragingly, "Looks like he missed the nerves."

"Maybe so, but my arm's weak and my fingers are a little numb."

Coltrain nodded, turning next to the sniper's hands, treating the lost nail and cleaning the cuts so they didn't swell.  That done, he pulled the MSG-90 from the sniper's drag bag while Benny Ray forced himself up to investigate the area.  He checked several locations before finally settling on one where there was an opening in the rocks just large enough to accommodate the rifle barrel and give him the widest possible angle of fire.

Coltrain handed Benny Ray the weapon and settled the drag bag next to him. Unlike most sniper rifles, which were bolt-action weapons, the MSG-90 was a gas-operated semiautomatic.  Less accurate than a bolt-action, it was faster at engaging multiple targets, and when the ambush was sprung, Benny Ray was going to have a bunch of angry, confused targets to deal with.

The sniper stacked the eight twenty-round magazines beside him, then dropped the bipod legs and adjusted them to the correct height.  He took a square of camouflage cloth from the drag bag and placed it beneath the muzzle so when he fired the gas wouldn't kick up the dirt and give away their position.  Grabbing the cocking handle, he pulled it all the way back and released it, chambering a round.  That done, he handed Coltrain a set of foam earplugs and stuck a second pair in his own ear, shaping one around his ear receiver.

Coltrain grinned.  "Gettin' soft in your old age?"

Benny Ray shot the man a grin.  "Decided I might not want to go deaf too quick after all.  But I'm gonna miss the sound of those targets fallin'."

"Smart man," Coltrain replied, then said into the lip filament, "Hawk, the eagles have landed."

Shepherd's voice echoed back in his ear.  "Roger, Eagle-Two.  What's the status on Eagle-One?"

"He's ready to soar, sir."

"Roger that.  Stand by, tangos should be moving into position any time now."

"Roger."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt checked his watch, relief sweeping over him.  Knowing Benny Ray and Coltrain were ready made him much more comfortable.  The news reports on Yeltsin's supposed death should have hit the airwaves fifteen minutes ago.  Their Russian contact had a man watching the location where Tavda was being held.  As soon as they were on the move he would hear about it, and then Matt would as well.

Several minutes later, Chance's voice announced, "Rasputin says the fox is on the loose.  Falcon is in the air; ETA twenty-seven minutes."

"Roger, Falcon," Matt replied, a thin grin on his face.  It was almost time.  If the tangos held to a steady pace they would reach the ambush site in twenty-one minutes, and Chance six minutes later.  If the tangos hadn't arrived, Matt would have the pilot hold position far enough back so he wouldn't spook the convoy.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In position, Benny Ray and Coltrain were the first to spot the approaching four-car convoy.  The sniper felt his palms begin to itch with the anticipation of the impending fight and gripped his rifle slightly tighter.  The burning pain in his shoulder faded into the faraway thoughts chasing across the back of his mind.

"Four tangos on the way, runnin' close," he said into the filament mike.

Matt's voice echoed in his ear.  "Roger, Eagle-One.  Roadrunner, take out coyote before he gets past the curve."

"Roger that, Hawk," C.J. replied with a grin.

Benny Ray peered through his scope, tracking the convoy's progress and keeping up a continual countdown for the three members of the assault element.  This was going to work.  He was sure of it.  The terrain was perfect for the impending ambush.  The narrow two-lane road was channeling the targets directly into their trap.  The north side of the road, where he and Coltrain were, rose steeply to the peak where they lay.  It was also thickly skirted with conifers.  C.J. had planted his claymores between the trunks to discourage anyone trying to climb to safety.

On the south side of the road was a narrow strip of woodland that dropped off precipitously ten yards beyond the road.  Matt, Margo, and C.J. were hidden in the trees on that side, waiting to attack the convoy's poorly guarded flanks.  If they could disable the lead and rear cars, the other two would be easy targets.  The diversionary charges would disorientate the lead and rear drivers, giving Matt and C.J. time to take them out.

From their positions the threesome near the road would have a good, overlapping arc of fire, enabling them to take out any soldiers who bolted toward the other side of the road.  All in all, they would be able to bring a maximum amount of firepower to bear on the four cars in a minimum amount of time.  And with Chance in the chopper they would be able to make a rapid withdrawal.  A perfect ambush.  But things seldom went perfectly, he knew.  Mr. Murphy was always hiding around the corner, ready to ruin your day.

The four sedans drew closer, the lead car beginning to slow in preparation for the tight curve ahead.  Benny Ray and Coltrain scanned the cars with scopes, looking for Tavada.

"Second car," Coltrain said.

"Roger that.  Hawk, package is in the second car, repeat, number two," Benny Ray announced.

"Roger, Eagle," Matt replied.  "Stand by, Roadrunner."

C.J. crouched, waiting for the first car to move into position.  When it did he touched off the diversionary charges, then stood, firing.  The RPG went off with a cracking explosion as it hit the side of the car.  Fuel vapor exploded a second later, destroying the vehicle and the people inside.

While the second and third cars skidded to an abrupt halt, Matt stood and fired on the last car.  The sedan exploded like the first, killing the men inside who were too slow to bail out when the diversionary charges went off.

Four soldiers from the third car scrambled out, heading for the cover of the trees on the north side of the road.  They fired old AKs as they ran – two into the trees, two twisting to fire behind them.  As they reached the edge of the road C.J. set off the first round of claymores.

As the four men rushed headlong toward their deaths, Benny Ray fired a single shot into the head of the second car's driver.  One man from the back seat bolted out of the car, then dropped to the ground as the claymores exploded. 

The explosion forced the three surviving soldiers back into Benny Ray's kill zone and the sniper efficiently dropped them one after the other with Coltrain's help.

"Nice shootin'," Dennis commented as the last fell, but the sniper was already looking for more targets.  He found one, a survivor from the fourth car and fired.  Coltrain checked the kill, then scanned the road to make sure more cars weren't headed in their direction.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In a low crouch, Matt sprinted to the side of the third car, then dashed to the rear of the second car, staying low.  He eased around the bumper to find a man rising and turning, preparing to fire on Margo and C.J. as they moved from cover.  He fired his MP5.

One of the two men still in the second car forced Tavda down onto the backseat and started to climb over him, but stopped when he saw his companion go down under a burst of fire.

C.J. brought his own MP5 up, preparing to fire on the man still in the front seat of the second car, but the large man shoved the car door open and lunged out, firing a handgun at the Brit.

On the peak Coltrain saw the threat.  "Man on the ground, eleven o'clock."

Benny Ray shifted slightly and fired without thinking. 

"Miss, to the left."

Benny Ray and C.J. fired at the same time, both men striking their target.  The large man slammed into the pavement and lay still.

Margo reached the second car and blasted out the right passenger window, raining shattered glass down on the last soldier's back.  "Don't move!" she yelled in Russian.  "Put your hands where I can see them!"

Matt edged to the open door and glanced inside.  The man was crouched over Tavda, a SIG pressed tightly to the politician's head.  The man's hand was shaking, his fingers already white from the deathgrip on the weapon.

"I will kill him!" the soldier screamed in Russian, his voice high and shrill.

"Then you will _die_ ," Margo replied coldly.  She met Matt's gaze briefly and nodded once.

Shepherd brought his MP5 up, centering on the soldier's head.

"Let him go," Margo replied.  "Now."

The sound of the approaching chopper told Matt that they were running out of time.  His radio _tsked_ once and Coltrain's voice announced, "Hey, it looks like part of the convoy fell behind.  You've got a single sedan, same color, approachin' at a fast clip.  He sees the smoke I think."

Shepherd's eyes narrowed.  It was now or never.  The Spetsnaz soldier was hardly more than a boy, and damned scared from the looks of him.

"I said let him go!" Margo snapped, pressing up against the window and shoving her Hush Puppy roughly between the man's legs.

"No!  No!" the young man cried, his eyes bulging wide with horror, his hand beginning to shake.

"Let him go or I swear I will castrate you with a bullet," she hissed.

The boy pulled the gun away from Tavda's head, raising it up and away from his body in a gesture of surrender.  Margo stepped swiftly out of the line of fire, and Matt, wishing it could be that simple, pulled the MP5's trigger, sending a single round into the boy's face.  He dropped heavily onto Tavda.

Reaching in, Shepherd dragged the body out while Margo opened the door and helped the diplomat sit up.  Tavda was pale and shaking, but he had the presence of mind to immediately slide toward the door and climb out.

A borrowed Vietnam-era Huey swung around the curve in the road and dropped to hover just above the pavement.  "Falcon ready to fly, sir," Chance announced over the radio.

"Go, go, go!" Matt barked, waving at the ride.

Margo, her hand securely on Tavda's arm, raced for the waiting chopper, dragging the Russian along with her.  Matt watched them clamber on board, then snapped, "You next, Roadrunner," as the fifth car reached the scene.

Three men escaped the vehicle as the first round from Benny Ray's MSG-90 shattered the windshield, killing the driver.

The Brit needed no additional encouragement, sprinting for the waiting Huey with surprising speed.  He lunged into the chopper and rolled out of the way as Margo fired on the men from the open doors.

Benny Ray's voice barked, "Go, Hawk, gotcha covered!"

Matt wasted no time, racing for the hovering chopper.  One of the soldiers opened up on the Huey, but Chance bobbed the craft, avoiding most of the assault.  A few bullets pinged off the metal skin of the craft, a few others penetrating.  A sharp crack from the MSG-90 dropped the man where he crouched behind his car.

Reaching the hatch, Matt dove inside, barely missing Margo and C.J. as they both opened fire on the remaining late arrivals.

Benny Ray dropped one more as the man sprinted for cover and a better shot at the chopper.  The last man was using the second car as cover from the sniper and getting off a few shots at the Huey.

"Fragger!" Matt shouted above the din.  "Cover me!"

From a position on his hands and knees Matt pulled the pin and let the grenade cook for a second before he lobbed it at the remaining shooter.  His aim was off by a few feet, but it was close enough to penetrate the thin metal skin of the car and ignite the gas tank.  The car exploded, taking the last man with it.

"Little overkill, don't you think, Major?" C.J. asked with a grin.

Ignoring the comment, Matt yelled, "Chance, get us out of here!"

The pilot deftly swung the Huey into sky, hugging the terrain as he cleared the curve.

"Eagle, prepare for pick-up at secondary LZ, repeat, secondary LZ," Shepherd said into his filament mike.

"Roger, that," Coltrain replied.  "Extraction at secondary LZ."

Taking a seat on one of the padded benches, Shepherd asked, "Everyone okay?"

Margo nodded.  "Fine."

"Couldn't be better," C.J. replied with a smile.

"You?" Matt asked Tavda.

"I will live," the man said, looking down at his blood-soaked clothes.  "Thank you."

"No prob–" Shepherd stared to say, but was cut short by Chance's worried voice.

"Major, we've got a problem."

"What's wrong?"

"One of those shots must have hit the hydraulics.  I'm losing pressure and the controls are getting sluggish."

"Can we get our people?"

"I think so, sir, but I don't know how far we're going to get before I have to set her down."

"Do your best," Matt replied, silently praying that their luck held just a little bit longer.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Climbing down from the peak was only slightly easier for Benny Ray than climbing up had been.  By the time he reached the ground he was sweating profusely, and his legs felt like he'd just completed a fifteen mile run through wet sand.

"Time to beat feet," Coltrain said, his gaze quickly sweeping over the wounded man.  "Make it?"

Benny Ray nodded and followed his spotter as Dennis trotted toward the tree line.  Once back in the shadows they made their way quickly and silently toward a second clearing slightly north and west of the ambush position.  Impossible to see or access from the main road, the secondary landing zone was big enough for the chopper to comfortably land in.

When they reached the extraction point, both men crouched in the shadows, listening to the distant _wop_ , _wop_ , _wop_ sound growing slightly louder.  Movement in the trees caught Benny Ray's attention and he scanned the shadows.  "Contact," he said softly to Coltrain.  "Maybe more poachers."

Less than ten yards away, a man stepped out from the shadows of a tree and peered skyward.  Several others appeared as well, each armed with an AKM.  Excitement spread through the men like ripples across a pool, and they spoke softly in what the sniper thought was Russian.

"Don't think they're poachers," Coltrain said softly.

"Not part of the crew with Tavda," Benny Ray observed, noting their non-military clothes.  Briefly, he considered putting a suppressed round through as many of them as he could, then make a running break for the clearing in the ensuing confusion, but he decided against it.  They'd have to enter the clearing to reach the chopper, and once bullets started flying their lives would be hanging purely on chance and on the mens' reactions.  He wanted to stay in control of the situation for as long as possible.

"Think they heard us?" Coltrain asked.

"I'm sure they heard the explosions," Benny Ray said softly.  "Must be comin' to take a look."

The intruders moved steadily toward them, hiding in the shadows as they scanned the trees and kept a wary eye on the sky.  The chopper was getting closer.

Then someone shouted and an instant later gunfire cracked, crashed, and stuttered in the woods as the eight Russian-speakers opened up on the two Americans.  But Benny Ray and Coltrain were already moving, snicking the fire-control lever on their MP5's to full auto, and rising into half-crouches, their rifles pressed against their shoulders.  Aiming at the closely packed Russians they squeezed their triggers, sending two long volleys slashing into the men from the flank as the Russians opened fire.  Someone screamed, and another man spun wildly, his AKM still firing on auto.

The thick-muzzled weapons bucked in Benny Ray and Coltrain's hands with a muffled, hissing clatter as the receiver bolt cycled rapidly back and forth.  Another Russian slumped over, colliding with a companion, then collapsing backward onto the ground.  The man beside him got off another wild burst with his AK before Benny Ray caught him squarely in the chest.

The rest of the men dove for cover, or staggered and fell.

Coltrain burned off half a thirty-round magazine, then checked the progress of the Huey, which was just dropping into the clearing.  Bullets clipped the tree trunks nearby and whispered over the spotter's head with a sound like tearing paper.  The familiar flat crack of the AKMs fired on full auto filled the shadows, as did the jutting stabs of their muzzle flashes.

"Falcon, eagle is taking hostile groundfire," Benny Ray announced into his lip mike.  "The LZ is hot, repeat, the LZ is hot."

The chopper topped the trees and began its descent.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Major, our people are taking hostile fire," Chance announced.

"I see it!  Get us in as close as you can," Matt replied, already reaching for his MP5.

"Best I can do, sir.  The controls are sluggish.  I've gotta stay in the middle where I have some room to maneuver.  They're going to have to run for it."

"Benny Ray, Coltrain, time to get the hell outta Dodge," Matt told them over the MX-300 communications unit as he, C.J., and Margo readied their weapons and waited for the two men to emerge from the trees.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Benny Ray, Coltrain, time to get the hell outta Dodge."

"Roger that, boss.  Go!" Benny Ray snapped at his spotter, knowing that his own injury might slow him down.  Better to let Dennis get to the chopper first. 

Coltrain hit the clearing, bent low but running flat out while the sniper held back at the edge of the trees, firing his MP5 in precise, carefully aimed three-round bursts that forced the remaining men to stay under cover.  But one man found an opening and fired on the spotter.

From the corner of his eye Benny Ray saw Coltrain get hit.  The man was flung forward, arms outstretched, as a round struck his back with a vicious-sounding _thwack_.

Benny Ray fired on the man who'd shot Coltrain, then bolted for the downed spotter.  He ran in a low crouch, zipzaging with an easy, long-legged stride, his own injury forgotten.  Bullets struck the ground near him, kicking up jets of dirt.  Then the chopper inched closer and fire erupted from the hatch of the Huey, forcing the attackers further back into the trees.

Benny Ray dropped to one knee at Coltrain's side.  "Dog-man, you hear me?"

The bullet had passed through the man's upper chest, punching through his flack vest in the back and out the front.  There was a lot of blood, and Coltrain appeared unconscious.

"Denny," Benny Ray snarled, giving the man's arm a jerk.

Coltrain sucked in a sharp breath.  "Shit," he hissed, eyes blinking wide open.

With his good arm, Benny Ray hoisted the wounded Marine to his feet with a groan, then began staggering toward the waiting chopper.  Bullets hissed and thudded in the dirt to either side of them, and something snapped at Benny Ray's right sleeve.

The chopper.  They had to reach the chopper…

Benny Ray saw Matt dive from the Huey's hatch, reaching them in five long strides.  Together they half-carried, half-dragged Coltrain to the waiting chopper.

Matt climbed in, then dragged the injured man in after him.  He reached for his MP5, firing as C.J. pulled the wounded man out of the way and immediately grabbed the first aid kit and got to work.

Chance was already lifting off, Margo and Matt firing out the hatch to keep the shooters in the trees.  Benny Ray stepped onto a skid, then reached for Matt's proffered hand.  A jolt of molten agony erupted in his shoulder, but he managed to maintain his grip.

"Hang on!" Chance shouted as the Huey lurched to the left.

Benny Ray's foot slipped and his hand jerked free of the major's grasp.  He managed to hook his arm over the skid, halting his fall, but he screamed as the force of his entire weight landed on his wounded shoulder.  His arm went numb and he lost his grip, falling to the ground as the chopper wobbled toward the far tree line.

"Benny Ray!" Matt yelled.  "Chance, swing back!"

"I can't!" the pilot replied.  "I'm losing control, we've got to go, now!"

In horror Shepherd watched three of the men break from the trees, bearing down on the wounded sniper.  Benny Ray climbed to his feet and ran as best he could for the cover of the pines.

In the swaying chopper, Tavda grabbed Shepherd's arm, yelling, "I know one of those men!"

"Who are they?" Matt demanded, taking a shot at them and coming up short.

"Estonian communists.  Nationalists.  If they find out your man is an American–"

Shepherd nodded, already realizing the possible consequences.  He keyed his mike, hoping Benny Ray could hear him as he continued to stumble forward toward the trees.  The nationalists were rapidly catching up.  "Benny Ray, E-and-E.  Repeat E-and-E.  We'll be back A-S-A-P.  If you're caught they can't know you're American, understand?"

"Roger that, Boss," the man panted in reply.  "Hurry back."

"Will do," Matt said, knowing it was already too late.  The communists were on top of him.  "Hang tough," he whispered as his throat closed in anger and frustration.  "Damnit!" he hissed.  "Chance, we've gotta get back and–"

"Matt!" Margo interrupted.  "We can't.  Not until Tavda's safe."

The ex-Delta Force commander snarled and shook his head.  "I know, I know, but they've got him!"

"I can help you," Tavda said, resting a hand on Matt's shoulder.  "I have friends in the Estonian government who will know where to look for Chovlin and his people."

Matt nodded once.  He didn't like it, but it was the best he could do at the moment.  "Chance, get us out of here!"

"Doing the best I can, sir," the pilot replied, still fighting the sluggish controls.

"Major," C.J. called.  Matt looked at the Brit, who shook his head.  "He didn't make it."

"Damn," Shepherd hissed, his gaze locked on the spotter's face.  "Take care of it."

C.J. wrapped the man in a blanket and secured Coltrain's body, then took a seat and strapped himself in.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The men who surrounded Benny Ray were angry and armed.  One pointed his weapon at the sniper's chest and barked an order in Russian.  The meaning was clear even if the words weren't.  Riddle dropped the MP5 he held.

The men moved in, stripping off the sniper's weapons and equipment, clubbing him with the butts of their rifles and kicking him.  Benny Ray did what he could to protect himself without actually fighting back.  Then one of the men jerked him to his feet and shoved him forward, back toward the tree line.

Feigning submission, Benny Ray took several steps, then stumbled.  He regained his balance, shuffled for several more steps, then stumbled again on the uneven ground.  Falling to his knees, he drew in a deep breath, shook his head as if to clear it and stood.  On the next step he stumbled again, and one of the men reached out to steady him.

Benny Ray's snap kick caught the man in the knee, dropping him to the ground and eliciting a cry of pain.  Dashing past the man as he crumbled, Benny Ray sprinted for the trees.  Two steps short of the shadows a powerful hand snagged his ankle, twisting his leg out from under him.  The American fell heavily, agony exploding in his shoulder as it impacted against a fist-sized rock.

There was another barked order in Russian and Benny Ray struggled up on trembling arms.  The butt of a rifle cracked against the back of his head and he tumbled back to the ground, head throbbing.  One of the men kicked him over onto his back and leaned close, his leer blotting out the sky.  He growled out something the sniper was sure was supremely vulgar.  Benny Ray tensed, his eyes narrowing as the man raised his rifle…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray woke, his head and shoulder pounding with equal ferocity.  His back was cold, his muscles twisted tighter than a sailor's knot, and his stomach was on the verge of rebelling.  He shivered.  _Not one of my better days…_

Forcing himself to sit up, Benny Ray peered around the small, dank cell.  The walls were old, made of mortared rocks that reminded him of the medieval dungeons he'd seen in late night movies.  A fine film of dark-green, slimy growth stained one wall where water seeped down over the stones, soaking into the dirt floor.  No furniture broke the monotony.  No sink, or toilet either, only a set of rusted manacles hanging from equally rusted chains set into the stones on one wall.  There were no windows, but past the narrow barred door he could see another small room with a table, two chairs and a wall clock.

He'd been out about two hours.  They'd taken all of his clothes except his underwear, but someone had thoughtfully tied a fresh bandage over his shoulder wound.  Blood stained the material, a result of the beating he'd sustained, he guessed.  Below the shoulder wound his arm was numb and weak, but he could still move it if he had to.

Bruises were already beginning to transform his skin into a mottled cammo pattern.  He licked his dry, cracked lips and made a silent assessment of his condition.  His head hurt like hell, his shoulder slightly worse.  He was bruised and stiff, but he didn't think anything was broken, though a couple of his ribs were definitely bruised or cracked.  He was slightly dehydrated, and the first hint of a fever made the breath in the back of his throat feel hot.  _Got a ways to go t' dead_ , he summed up silently.

There was nothing to tell him where he was, or who had captured him.  But he knew that Shepherd and the others would be looking for him.  All he had to do was sit tight and keep his mouth shut until they arrived.  Not for the first time he was grateful that he'd been through the ordeal of BUD/S training.  If he could survive that, he could survive this as well.

A loud _creak_ beyond the small room Benny Ray could see announced the arrival of his captors.  Heavy footsteps echoed down what must be a hallway, then a door into the small room opened and two men entered.  One was tall and thin, with stringy black hair and a uniform that looked like it was at least three sizes too big.  His companion was shorter and considerably thicker, with bushy black hair that was cropped short.  Benny Ray silently named them "Boris" and "Natasha."  Boris had been among the men who had captured him.

Natasha held an AK and stood back from the cell.  Boris walked to the bars and peered in at Benny Ray.  "You, American," he said in a low, gravelly voice.

Benny Ray shrugged and shook his head, feigning incomprehension.

Boris' thick black eyebrows knotted above the bridge of his nose.  "American, American," he repeated in a thick accent.

Benny Ray shook his head again.

"Liar," the man growled.  "American.  You come… to kill."  The man laughed, the sound colder than the walls of Benny Ray's cell.  "Too bad for you… Spy.  We make talk.  Too bad for you."

With that the man turned and left, Natasha following him out.  Benny Ray sucked in a deep breath, wincing slightly when his shoulder pinched.  _Hurry up, Boss_ , he thought.  _I've got a feelin' these guys mean business_.

Given the shape the Huey had been in, he guessed that Chance would be forced to land and use the back-up chopper they had waiting for them in Tartu.  _If_ the Huey could even carry them that far.  If they had to set down someplace else there was no telling how long it might take the team to reach the back-up. And then they'd have to ferry Tavda to Saint Petersburg before heading back to find him.  _And that might not be so easy…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Chance fought with the controls of the old Huey, keeping the chopper in the air with a combination of pure skill and sheer determination.  The craft wagged, bucking occasionally and pitching forward and backward with alarming frequency.  In the back Matt, Margo, C.J., and Tavda sat, buckled in along two bench seats, their expressions grim.

"Major, we're on the outskirts of Mustvee.  It's the best I can do.  I'm gonna sit her down before we crash."

"Roger," Shepherd called back, then shifted to look at Tavda.  "Is there anyone in Mustvee you can trust?"

The man nodded.  "Yes, some of my mother's family is here, an aunt."

"When we hit the ground we'll secure transpo.  I want to get you someplace safe A-S-A-P, then we'll regroup."

Tavda nodded.

"We've got to do something with Coltrain, too," Margo added.

"I will see to that," Tavda said.  "There are people I trust in Tartu.  If we can get him there–"

"We will," Matt said, a hard edge to his voice.  "Everyone comes home."

A moment later the chopper landed with a loud _prang_ , the skids bouncing once before coming to rest solidly on the ground of a recently tilled field.  Matt and C.J. exited first, their MP5s at their shoulders and ready.  Margo and Tavda were next.  Margo kept the diplomat bent over, shielding him as best she could.  Chance was the last one out, protecting their six as Matt led the way across the open field.

When they reached the edge of the field, bordered by a stone fence, Shepherd swept the road with his rifle.  In the distance a car was approaching in the fading daylight.  Pulling out a small pair of field glasses, the major checked the car.  "Margo, get out there, our ride's on the way."

Margo quickly stripped off her external gear, then leaped over the fence.  She unzipped the black jumpsuit so there was a fair amount of cleavage showing, but not too much, in case the driver happened to be a woman.

Matt and the others crouched behind the low wall, ready to protect Margo should the need arise.

The small car rolled to a stop.  A young man in the driver's seat smiled at Margo and called out something in Estonian.  She replied with a smile in Russian, then took a step toward the car, but pulled up short with a small cry.  She bent over and rubbed her ankle.

The young man was quickly out of the car and moving to her side to help.

Margo caught his wrist and swiftly stepped to the side, twisting the man's arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees on the asphalt.

Matt and the others surged over the wall, surrounding the young man, who pleaded in Estonian, "Please, don't kill me!"

Tavda spoke rapidly in Russian, the young man's eyes widening.  He nodded and replied with equal speed.

"What was that?" Matt demanded.

Margo said softly, "Tavda explained the situation, more or less.  We can use his car."

"Can we trust him?" Matt asked, his tone dubious.

"I think so," Tavda replied.  "He is pro-democracy."

Margo released the young man, who rubbed his shoulder, then extended his hand to Tavda, who shook it.  "My great honor," he said in broken English.

"Thank you," Tavda replied in English.  "Now, we must go."

The young man stepped to the side of the road and watched as two of the men fetched a body from the helicopter.  They placed it in his truck, then piled into the small car with the others.  They drove off as he watched, wondering who they were.  _Spetsnaz_ , he decided, _helping Tavda_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In Mustvee Tavda directed them to a modest-sized home in one of the most opulent neighborhoods in the city.  Matt and the others surrounded Tavda as they moved to the door, which opened before they reached it.  An older woman stood just inside, one hand at her throat, the other raised in a hesitant greeting as her gaze focused on her nephew's bloodstained clothes.

Tavda wrapped the woman in a warm hug and escorted her inside.  He spoke softly next to her ear and the woman nodded.  When they stepped apart she immediately left the room.

"She's going to make us tea," he told Matt.

"We need to get you to Tartu.  There's a backup chopper there we can use to get you to Saint Petersburg," Shepherd said.

"Yes, in a moment.  I need to contact a friend, Alexi Tarterov.  He will be able to locate where the nationalists have taken your friend."

Tavda led them through the house to a small parlor room.  He motioned for them to sit, then crossed to an old black dial phone and placed a call.  "Alexi, it's Vitaly…" he said in greeting.  "Yes, yes… I am safe.  But there was a young man– Yes…  It was Chovlin…  Yes.  We must find him as soon as possible…  Try Rakvere, Tapa, Kohtla-Jarve, and Tallinn…  Yes, yes, I know.  The man's life is at stake, as well as– Yes, yes…  Good.  My thanks, Alexi."

He hung up and turned to the others as the old woman entered and set a silver tea service down and began handing out half-full tea cups.  The team accepted the cups, but had no interest in drinking the tea.

"His men will begin looking immediately.  It is likely they have taken him to Rakvere."

"Okay," Matt said.  "We'll head out as soon as it's dark, drive to Tartu and pick up the chopper.  Then we'll ferry Tavda to Saint Petersburg."  He looked at Tavda.  "Can you call your contact from there?"

"Yes," he nodded.  "Alexi should know by then where your man is held.  Now, I must go change."

Matt checked his watch.  They had three hours to wait…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray peered out through his good eye and checked the clock.  Hour four of his captivity, and just a little over an hour had passed since the interrogation had begun.  The men were not exactly imaginative, but they were committed to hearing their version of the truth from him.

Sagging slightly in the manacles, the sniper tried to make the most of the first break the men had taken.  He was more bruised, battered, and hurting, but it was the inability to verbally spar with the one English speaker that hurt the most.  The man was out and out delusional, if his comments were any indication; the story he was trying to beat out of Benny Ray was beyond fantasy.

 _Oh yeah_ , the sniper thought sourly, _I came halfway 'round the world to kill Estonian communists 'cause Yeltsin's under some kind 'a mind control of our President, who's nothing but a puppet for the Illuminati…  Hell, you might as well call me Peter-fucking-Pan_ , he thought, licking dry, bloody lips.

Shifting his weight, Benny Ray took another mental assessment of his physical situation.  The blood loss wasn't too bad, but he was cold and dehydrated, which leached away some of his strength, making the pain harder to ignore.  His shoulder felt like it was on fire, and it was seeping blood again.  That could become a problem later if they didn't redress the wound.  The bruises were going to hurt like hell for a while, but so far they hadn't broken anything.  And the flogging he had endured gave him an entirely new respect for Margo, who'd survived the same treatment.  One eye was half-swollen, the corners of his lips were torn and bloody, and his head ached.

 _Pain is just the weakness leavin' my body_ , he told himself, reciting a well-known refrain that all SEALs knew and understood intimately.  _If it hurts, ya know you're alive_.

He heard footsteps approaching again and knew that the men were trying to play some kind of mind game.  _Well, fellahs, it's not gonna work, you're still just a bunch of loonies–_ The cold blast from the firehose came as a complete surprise.  The powerful stream of water hit Benny Ray in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Pressing back against the frigid stone wall, the sniper tried to turn so he presented a smaller target, but the manacles made that impossible.  Water continued to batter his body, forcing itself up his nose and into his mouth.  He choked and coughed, but he didn't panic.

 _I've been drown-proofed, assholes_ , he told them silently.  _Mother ocean…  Water is a SEAL's best friend.  Fuckin' idiots…_

Time slowed for the sniper, his SEAL training kicking in.  He carefully timed his breaths to avoid gulping in more water, and when the stream was directed at his face he turned his head and pressed his face against his arm, breathing out of the corner of his mouth away from the spray.  He would survive this round as well.  _No way 'n hell you can drown a SEAL…_

How long they showered him, Benny Ray wasn't sure, but he took advantage of the heavy stream to pee.  As soon as the water was turned off he began to shiver.  Blinking drops out of his eyes, he watched one of the larger men approach him with a long tube that looked like a policeman's billy club.  _Yessir, I like it, sir.  May I have some more, please, sir?_ he chanted to himself, mentally preparing for the beating to come.

But instead of beating him, the man pressed the end of the tube against Benny Ray's good shoulder.  A jolt of electricity exploded into his flesh, jerking his muscles painfully tight and snapping his head back to crack against the stone wall.  He cried out, but reined the sound in, changing it to a deadly sounding growl directed at the big man.

The sound and the look in Benny Ray's eyes forced the man to take a step back.  When he realized what he'd done, he hissed in Russian and pressed the prod against the sodden dressing over Benny Ray's injury.  The sniper screamed, the pain forcing him into the welcome respite of unconsciousness.

A blast from the hose roused him and the process started all over again…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When he blinked awake, Benny Ray checked the clock again.  Hour six of his captivity, and forty minutes since they'd finally put away the hose and cattle prod.  Boris was back, pacing in the small cell.  He stopped when he saw the sniper was conscious again.

"American, you will talk," the pudgy man snarled.  "Very soon."  He took two steps toward Benny Ray, who shivered uncontrollably.  "You what they call… a hard case, yes?"

Benny Ray couldn't stop the small, wolfish grin that curled the corner of his lips.

Boris nodded.  "We see, American.  Vorki make you talk, or you die like no man should die."  He snapped something in Russian and Natasha and the big man rolled in a medical tray.  Whatever rested on the tray was hidden by a dingy white towel.

 _More mind games_ , Benny Ray told himself.  _Nice try, fellahs, but I ain't interested…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

By the time Alexander Vorki stepped into Benny Ray's cell the shivering had stopped, and the sniper drooped in the manacles, hypothermia taking its toll.

Vorki smiled.  The American was feigning weakness.  Chovlin and his men had softened the man up, but they hadn't broken past the mental barriers the soldier had erected for his protection.  Still, softening the body was the first step in breaking past those barriers.  He would continue their work a while longer, then administer the drug.  Then he would know the truth – if this was one of the men who had rescued Vitaly Tavda.

The smile grew broader.  Kular had been livid when word reached him that Tavda had been rescued.  They both knew it had to be the Americans.  Their Spetsnaz contacts were too highly placed for it to have been a Russian operation.  When Chovlin had called, telling him he had an American, sent to Estonia to kill the loyalists, Vorki knew who the man was really there for.

Well, Tavda might be safe for the moment, but if he could get the American to talk, the damage to the pro-democracy movement would be irreversible.  Kular would still be able to pull off his coup.  And Tavda would die at the hands of an incensed Russian public.

But the American's companions must still be in Estonia, or Russia, looking for him.  If he could capture them as well…

He walked to the medical tray and removed the towel.

Under the cloth lay a collection of instruments that Benny Ray didn't recognize.  He watched the man Boris called Vorki carefully examine each of the metal devices, picking them up, turning them over in his hands and then setting them back down on the tray.  When he was done, he called for "Chovlin."

Boris stepped into the cell and the two men spoke for several seconds.  Then Boris left.

Benny Ray felt the first real sting of fear when Vorki turned to study him.  For the first time he knew exactly how a bug felt just before someone dissected it.  He glanced past the man at the wall clock.  Hour seven and counting.  _C'mon, Major_ , he thought.  _Anytime now_.

Boris returned carrying the soldier's Motarola MX-300 communications unit.  He secured it around Benny Ray's naked waist and positioned the lip mike.

Vorki took a step closer, saying in lightly accented English, "Now, let us see if we cannot lure your companions out to play, shall we?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Leaving Mustvee was easier than Shepherd had dared hope for, and the drive to Tartu was blissfully uneventful.  They delivered Coltrain's body to an older man with stooped shoulders and a kind face.  He was a local undertaker and would care of the body until it could be smuggled out of the country to Finland. 

Matt's gut told him he could trust the old man and he left that problem to him, turning his entire attention to getting back the man who was alive.  At least he hoped Benny Ray was still alive.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"They must've assumed that we took him directly out of the country," C.J. said quietly as he waited just outside a small Tartu farmhouse with Chance and Tavda.  Margo and Matt were meeting with their Russian contact to arrange a secure landing site in Saint Petersburg.

"Let's just hope our luck holds," Chance said.

"Amen to that," the Brit replied, then a moment later asked, "What do you think they're doing to him?"

"Nothing good," Chance returned softly.

"Think he'll talk?"

"Not a chance," the black man replied.

Matt jogged over to the car.  "It's here.  Let's go."

The three men shadowed Tavda across the yard to a barn, passing through it, to a field behind the building.  A small helicopter sat waiting for them, along with Margo and the Russian.

They loaded Tavda, then climbed in.  Chance started the engine, the rotors quickly picking up speed.  They lifted off and swung to the east.  Before long they were skimming over the water of Lake Peipsi, crossing into Russia.

Their contact used a secured radio to alert his superiors, and their flight into Saint Petersburg continued without incident.  As soon as they were on the ground Tavda was surrounded by Russians.

Matt quickly pushed past two of the men, grabbing the diplomat's arm.  "Your contact–?"

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, saying something in rapid-fire Russian to his new bodyguards

One of the men handed Tavda a cellular phone and the diplomat dialed a number.  "Alexi?  Vitaly…  Tallinn?" he asked, launching into more Russian.

"What's going on?" Matt asked Margo.

"Alexi thinks they've found where Chovlin's holding Benny Ray, but it's in the capital…"  Her expression turned worried.

"What?" Matt hissed.

"Alexi's people have the building under surveillance, but–"

"But?  But what?" Matt prompted.

"They sent for a man named Vorki."  She drew a deep breath.  "Matt, if that's the man I think it is, he's an ex-KGB interrogator.  He's ruthless."

Tavda ended his conversation and handed the cellular back to the guard.

"What's going on?" Shepherd demanded.

"They've sent for a specialist," Tavda said.  "An interrogator.  Ex-KGB."

"Ivan Vorki," Margo said.

Tavda nodded.  "You do not have much time."

"Show me where they have him," Matt said, digging into one of his pockets and pulling out a map of the Estonian capital city.

Tavda studied the map for a moment, then pointed.  "Alexi will meet you here.  He will show you where your man is held."  He looked up from the map, his expression grim.  "Vorki will make your man talk and–"

"I can paint that picture all by myself," Matt interrupted.  "Okay, people, let's go."

"Wait!" their Russian contact called.  "I will accompany you to Tallinn," he said.  "In case there are any questions.  There can be no revelations of what has happened here."

Matt nodded, the team heading for the chopper.  He'd have to keep an eye on the man.  If Vorki did get Benny Ray to talk the Russian might think the easiest way to cover up the operation would be to kill the sniper, and the rest of them.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Alexi Kalashnikova met them on the road just before they reached the outskirts of Tallinn.  The man was in his fifties, short and stocky.  Longish black hair, peppered with streaks of grey, poked out from under the dark watch cap he wore, and a matching thick beard and mustache gave the impression of a young, darker Kris Kringle.

Climbing into the back of Alexi's battered old delivery van, Matt and the others made a quick equipment check while their Russian contact and Alexi carried on a quiet conversation in Russian.

Shepherd clicked his tactical radio on, freezing when he heard the low groan.

"Radio," he hissed, the others turning their units on as well.

"American, you come to kill the members of the Estonian Loyalists Party, we know this.  Who sent you?"

There was a sharp _crack_ , followed by another low moan.

"You tell who sent you!"

Another _crack_.

Margo's face paled.  "They're beating him."  She shivered, remembering her own beating on Grand Camore Island.

Matt glanced at the Estonian.  "How far?"

"Twenty minutes," Alexi said.  "I will hurry."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fifteen minutes later a cultured, accented voice replaced the sounds of Benny Ray's suffering.  "American commandos, I know you are out there.  Are you enjoying my little… party?"  There was an odd crackling sound and the sound of a strangled cry.  "I will not wait much longer," the voice stated.  "Where are you?  You simply must come join my party."

"Vorki," Margo said softly, her cheeks pale.

"I will make him talk, you know," the voice continued.  "But I'm afraid that it will be most… most painful."

Matt's lips curled into a half-snarl, but he refused to be baited.  They were five minutes away.  _Hang on, Benny Ray.  We're almost there_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Just short of their objective Alexi pulled over.  "My people will have a boat waiting beyond the house.  It sits on the coast," he explained, handing Matt a map. "This is where you can stay tonight.  Another boat will come for you there, at dawn."

"Thank you," Shepherd said, shaking the man's beefy hand.

Alexi nodded.  "It is I who am grateful.  Vitaly, he is our greatest hope."

Shepherd nodded, then looked at the others, "Okay, people, let's make this work."

"Everyone comes home, sir," Chance said quietly.

C.J. nodded and Margo snicked her MP5 to full auto.  They were all ready to go.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The target house was old, broken windows boarded up and the front door secured with a sheet of plywood held in place by metal bars set into the stone walls. Two-stories tall, there was only one light burning inside one the first floor.  There were several other houses in a similar state of decay along the beach front neighborhood.  _Houses of the communist elite_ , Shepherd reasoned.  _Until they were run out in 1991_.

The house they were interested in stood on a small point of land that lifted it a half story above the others.  _Status_ , Matt knew.  _Someone important occupied the place at one time_.  The architecture reminded him of something he'd seen in an old horror movie, and given what Benny Ray must be enduring, the description was apropos.  Behind the house the Gulf of Finland lapped quietly on the pebbly beach.

Matt signaled the team to move forward.  Using the other houses as shields, they maneuvered close to the rear of the target.

A two-foot-high wrought-iron fence enclosed the front and backyards.  Three slender, wind-whipped trees grew near the fence in the far rear of the property.

Ignoring the barred front door, they headed for one at the rear.  Without a floor plan they'd have to play it by ear once they were inside.  But Alexi had assured them that Benny Ray was being held in the basement.

Using his single night-vision lens, Matt spotted two men trying to hide themselves in the overgrown shrubs near the rear door.  They were staring out to sea.

Using a bolt-action M89 with fixed sound-suppressor that Alexi had supplied – Shepherd decided it wouldn't be good form to ask the man _where_ he'd gotten it from – Matt took aim on one of the guards and fired.  The man farthest away slammed back against the wall and slid down.

Matt drilled the second guard as he rose to check on the first.  All was quiet.

"You stay here," Shepherd told the Russian.  "Make sure no one gets inside."

The man didn't look happy, but he nodded his agreement.

Shepherd exchanged the M89 for his MP5, then gave a hand signal, moving with the others to the house, kneeling at the door.

Matt lifted the MP5 and kicked in the door.  Chance tossed a flashbang inside, then pressed back against the outside wall.  When the last strobe of light from the grenade stabbed into the night through the opening, Matt charged past the kicked-in door, cutting to the right, watching for any movement or sound inside the room.  He caught sight of motion through the green-field NVG and spewed a three-round burst at a man raising a pistol.  Chance fired two three-round bursts on his side of the room, the suppressed sub-machine gun coughing quietly.

In the small window of silence, Matt heard a long death rattle.  "Clear," he said.

Margo and C.J. moved in and forward.  There were more three-round bursts as the foursome worked their way through the house.

Enough light spilled out from under a door that Matt could see three men down and dead in what he guessed used to be the kitchen.  He flipped up his NVG lens.  "Clear," he said into his mike.

"Clear," Margo echoed.

More suppressed fire erupted upstairs, then C.J. said, "Clear.  These guys aren't Spetsnaz.  Amateurs."

"Major," Chance called.

Matt joined him at the door.

"Looks like a cellar or basement."

"Just like Alexi said," Matt replied.  "C.J., Margo, in here."

The two quickly backtracked through the house, joining Matt and Chance.

Matt thought quickly.  "C.J. stay here, if you see movement, holler."

"Will do, Major."

"I'll take point," Matt continued.  "Chance, you watch our six."

The black man nodded.

Shepherd reached out and gripped the knob while standing along the wall.  He pulled the door open and waited.  Nothing.  He edged his MP5 into sight.  Still nothing.  He sneaked a quick peek.  The stairs were clear.

The threesome carefully made their way down the steps, moving silently.  Halfway to the bottom they could hear the low groans.

Matt paused on the last step, leaning forward just far enough to glance around the corner.  Hanging from a cord, a bare lightbulb burned in the middle of the small room.  A table and chair was the only other things in the room, but across the space was a single cell.  Two men stood side by side, blocking most of Matt's view of the inside of the cell, but in the space between them he could see a third man and a bruised and bloody Benny Ray.  The sniper was sitting almost naked in a chair, his hands tied behind his back, his ankles secured to the chair legs by duct tape.

Matt pulled back, took a deep breath and whispered, "Two guards, and Vorki. Margo, left, Chance, right.  I'll take Vorki.  Ready?"

Two heads nodded.

"Go," Matt said.

Chance rolled around the corner to the right and fired.  Margo followed to the left.  The two guards fell one after the other before they could even turn around.

Matt was last, drawing a bead on Vorki just as the man started to inject the sniper.  The man froze for a split second when the guards were shot, then abandoned the syringe, reaching for the SIG he had tucked at the small of his back, but he wasn't faster than the MP5.

The three rushed forward into the cell.

Margo saw the syringe first.  "Get that out of his arm!"

Chance, closest to the sniper, reacted quickly, jerking the needle out of the man's arm.  He held it up.  "There's still something in here, maybe–"

"Gave me some," Benny Ray croaked out as he tried to grin.

Margo looked frantically around the room, her gaze coming to rest on the medical cart.  She quickly stepped over and grabbed up a small bottle of pale yellow liquid.  Turning it over, she read the label aloud, "Astrimtin."  Looking up, she met Matt's concerned gaze, then quickly turned away.

Shepherd saw the fear and concern in Margo's eyes, but he didn't want to ask her about it until they were safe.  He moved, crouching next to Benny Ray and cutting him free.  The tortured man almost fell off the chair, but Matt caught him, then knelt to steady him.  He lifted a canteen to the sniper's mouth and Benny Ray drank.

"Damned good to see ya, sir," the sniper said, his voice thin and raspy.  "Didn't happen t' bring me some clothes, did ya?"

"Sorry," the major apologized.  "Forgot the tux."

Benny Ray shrugged a single shoulder and tried to smile.  A moment later he passed out.

Fishing into a pocket, Shepherd found a smelling salt ampule.  Breaking it open, he waved it under Benny Ray's nose a half-dozen times, then gave the sniper a longer whiff.

The sniper coughed, snorted, then roused.  At first he was wary, then he recognized Shepherd and relaxed.

"Come on," Matt said, reaching out to help the man stand.

Benny Ray swayed slightly, his face glazed with pain.  Eyes closing, he shivered, then his whole body spasmed twice, then again.

"Can you walk?" Matt asked, concern etching deep lines on his face as the sniper sagged bonelessly against him.  He wasn't sure, but it felt like the man wasn't breathing.

The wave of agonizing pain passed and Benny Ray met Matt's gaze.  He growled low in his throat and nodded.  "Damned well better."

His first steps out of the cell were unsteady, but he kept going, shuffling along as fast as he could manage.  Shepherd grimaced when he saw the condition of the man's back.

Margo pocketed the small bottle, then took the syringe from Chance and checked the dosage – about three milliliters remained from a possible six milliliter dose.  She double-checked the tray, then Vorki's pockets, trying not to notice the blood on the far wall and floor, before she followed Chance out of the cell.

On the stairs Matt stayed one step behind Benny Ray in case the man needed help, but the sniper made it to the top on his own.

C.J. glanced briefly at him, then back to watch for possible danger.  "You look terrible, mate.  Worse than Bosnia."

"Ya looked worse…" Benny Ray replied.  "…in Libya."

"In your dreams," the Brit said, adding, "All clear, Major."

Benny Ray gasped for breath and his face contorted as another spasm of pain hit.  His eyes closed and he trembled twice.  Then he gasped and his eyes opened again.  "Time to get the hell outta Dodge," he slurred.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Outside, they rendezvoused with the waiting Russian.  "There are no witnesses?" he asked, studying Benny Ray.

"None," Matt growled.

"Vorki?"

"Dead."

The thin man nodded.  "Good.  Now, we must get you and your people out of Estonia."

Together they headed for the narrow beach.  Crouching just below a slight dip that protected their backs from anyone coming down from the house, Matt stripped off his black fatigue shirt and handed it to Benny Ray, who slipped it on with help from Chance.

"Hope we're not swimmin' back to Finland," the sniper said, his teeth chattering.

"There's a boat waiting for us," Margo assured.  "You want a shot of morphine for the pain?"

Benny Ray shook his head.  "Gotta s-stay alert f-for the swim-m-m."

"No swim for you," Matt said, using a finger-sized pencil flash.  The red glow from the device was too dim to be seen more than a few dozen meters, but it was more than enough to get the attention of the men waiting for them.  He blinked out the prearranged code and heard the small outboard motor turn over. In moments the boat was waiting for them just beyond the breakers.

They moved into the cold water, the Russian leading the way.  Matt and Chance helped Benny Ray while C.J. and Margo covered their backs.  When they reached the boat the Russian helped pull Benny Ray in, then waited until Matt and the others were on-board.  When they were, he signaled and the two men in the boat slipped over the side and headed for the beach.  The Russian fired the engine and headed the boat back out to sea, then turned west, running along the Estonian coastline.

"By the way," Matt said to the Russian, "what's your name?"

The thin man grinned.  "That, Major Shepherd, is, as you say, need to know."

Matt grinned.  "I understand."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The safe house in Vasalemaa was a small cabin less than sixty yards from the shore.  Conifers grew thick around the building and up to the narrow spit of sand that poked out into the Gulf of Finland.  Their Russian contact drove the boat up as close to the shore as he dared, then waited while the others helped Benny Ray into the cold thigh-deep water.

"Where're you going?" Matt asked the man.

"Back to Tartu, to make sure that your other man is taken care of."

Matt nodded.  "Thank you.  Your help's appreciated."

"The boat will be here at dawn for you.  Sign three flashes, one, and three more.  Counter-sign, two flashes, two more, and one."

Another nod, then Matt watched the man swing the boat back out to sea.  He sighed heavily, seven, maybe eight hours to go…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In the cabin Chance and C.J. quickly built a fire on the small stone hearth, using the dry wood stacked in a box in a corner of the one-room building.  Once that was done they moved to the two windows to keep an eye out for any potential trouble.

Matt and Margo pulled the narrow bed along one wall closer to the fireplace, then helped Benny Ray over to it from where they'd left him leaning against a wall.

Matt helped the sniper pull off the wet fatigue shirt while Margo pulled the covers off the bed.  Benny Ray sat down on the thin mattress, his muscles trembling uncontrollably.

"Cold?" Margo asked.

He shook his head.  "F-feel like m-m' nerves are on f-fire," he explained, shivering.

Margo draped one of the blankets around the man's shaking shoulders anyway, knowing the ordeal that he faced was only just starting.  "I'm going to see what I can find," she said.

Matt nodded.  "I'll take over here."

Opening one of the medical field kits, the major set to work on the obvious wounds, cleaning and bandaging.  He frowned at the shoulder wound, the skin around the puncture red and puckered.

Benny Ray squeezed his eyes shut, his body continuing to shake.  He moaned softly as cramps knotted his muscles.

"Bad?" Matt asked softly.

The sniper nodded.

"What?  The shoulder?"

"Don't… think so," Benny Ray panted.  "Hurts… inside.  M' muscles."

"Margo!" Shepherd called.

The woman turned from the small two-eye wood stove and walked over to the bed.

"That drug," Matt said softly, "what is it?"

"Astrimtin," she said, studying Benny Ray more closely.  "It's an interrogation drug developed by the KGB in the late 1970s."

The sniper groaned again and Matt helped him lie down on the narrow bed, then covered him with the blankets.

"Hang in there," Matt told the sniper softly, then grabbed Margo's arm and led her back to the stove.  "What the hell does that stuff do?" he demanded softly.

Margo's gaze flickered from Matt to Benny Ray and back again.  "It's designed to cause pain."

"How much?  Is it dangerous?"

"It depends on the dosage," she said, then sighed.  "Matt, I don't know how much he was given."

The major leaned closer, asking, "And if it was too much?"

Margo studied the stovetop as she said, "Four milliliters will kill in four to six hours.  Three milliliters will kill in six to eight hours–"

"Tell me there's some good news here," Matt hissed under his breath.

"Two milliliters and it's up for grabs," she continued.  "There are some things we can do as the drug progresses that might help."

Drawing himself up he asked the critical question: "What's the field dose?"

"One milliliter.  It'll make almost anyone talk in six to eight hours… and there's no lasting side-effects.  You get the information you want and you let the subject go."

Shepherd's expression turned stony.  "But Vorki had no plans to let him go."

"No," Margo agreed, dipping her head and studying the faded carpet for a moment.  Then she lifted her chin and said, "Look, the best case scenario is they planned to give him a four milliliter dose and we stopped them after they'd given him two."

"So it's touch and go," Matt confirmed.

She nodded.  "It's going to be a long night."

"And if they'd filled that syringe?"

"Then they gave him four and we'll know for sure in about four hours."

"When he dies."

"Yes," she whispered.

He reached out, his fingers curling over her shoulders, his expression pleading for something he could hold on to.  He'd already lost one man, he didn't want to make it two.  "Is there _anything_ we can do?"

"We can make him as comfortable as we can," Margo replied, her voice as sad as Shepherd could ever remember hearing it.  "And we make sure he's not alone."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The next two hours passed in a haze of pain and scalding agony for Benny Ray.  Muscle cramps twisted him painfully, attacking his arms, legs, shoulders, and back.  The stab wound tore itself open, blood seeping into the fresh dressing, forcing Matt to replace it.  But Benny Ray didn't notice the pain, lost as it was in the torrent of suffering that contorted his body at whim.

Periodically the cramps shifted from his limbs, gripping his abdomen like red-hot fingers and sending Matt or Margo scrambling for a large pan someone had found in the cabin.  They held it for him while Benny Ray's stomach constricted, rejecting any water or bile still remaining.  Usually, though, dry heaves shuddered through his body, leaving him clinging to the edge of the bed, too weak to move.

At those times, hands reached out, rolling him back onto the mattress and tightening the blankets snugged around him.

"We need to get him closer to the fire," Benny Ray heard Margo say, and before he could object the bed was pushed closer to the flames.

"Hot," he panted, his head rolling from side to side.

"I know," Margo said, adding back a blanket the sniper had managed to toss off.  "But trust me, the more you sweat, the faster this'll be over."

Gritting his teeth against the agony coiling his leg muscles into knots, he nodded his understanding.  She knew about the drug.  He had to follow her instructions – he wanted to live.

Strong hands began working on his legs, kneading the cramps back to a tolerable level.  Benny Ray forced his head up to see who his benefactor was.

"'Preciate it, Boss," he said airily.

Shepherd grinned, hoping it would cover his rising concern.  Benny Ray's skin was sallow, his eyes dull with an unsettling waxy look.  "No problem," he assured.  "You just hang in there, you hear me?"

The sniper tried to nod, but he was too weak.  Dropping back against the pillow, he breathed, "Everyone… comes home."

"That's right," Matt agreed.  "Damn right."

Another round of nausea hit, curling Benny Ray into a ball…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

He was burning up.  His skin was on fire.

Benny Ray fought weakly in the cocoon of blankets that trapped him in the burning inferno, trying to escape the agony that blazed along his nerve-endings.  But the hands were back, holding him still, allowing the tormenting flames to consume him.

He tried to cry out, but the only sound that escaped his throat was a soft keening sound.  Then he was choking…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt sat at the head of the narrow bed, supporting Benny Ray against his shoulder while Margo tried to get the man to drink.

Water entered the sniper's mouth, then bubbled back up over his lips.

"Damn it!" she said, her voice choked.

"Need some help?" Chance called from his position at the window.

"No," she said, closing her eyes and tilting her head back.  Exhaustion etched across her face, but she knew there was no rest ahead of them.

"Why the water?" Matt asked, taking the half-full glass from her hand and lifting it to Benny Ray's lips a second time.  "Benny Ray," he said sternly next to the sniper's ear.  "Drink this," he commanded.  He tilted the glass against Riddle's lips, watching as the sniper took several swallows.  "More," he demanded, continuing in the same fashion until the glass was empty.

Standing, Margo rubbed at the small of her back.  "It's the dehydration that's partly responsible for the pain," she replied robotically.

"But he's burning up in these blankets," the major said.  "If we could cool him off–"

"No," she snapped, her expression immediately apologetic.  "Cooling him off will only make it worse.  We have to keep him sweating and drinking."

Matt was about to argue the point, but Benny Ray groaned, fever-bright eyes blinking open.  "Hey," Shepherd said, forcing a smile.  "Still with us?"

The sniper's gaze locked on Margo's.  "On fire…" he panted, "…too hot."

"I'm sorry," she said.  "But we have to–"

"Okay," he interrupted, sucking in rasping gasps that seemed to tear out of his lungs.  "You know… best."  He offered her a weak smile.

Margo bit her lower lip as she knelt next to the bed and reached out, cupping the side of his face with her palm.  His skin was too hot and it felt brittle under the prickly beard shadow.  "Just hang on a little longer," she said.  "Another hour."

"Then… 's over?" he asked.

She shook her head.  "I wish I could say yes, Benny Ray, but no, it won't be over.  It'll change again."

"What?" he demanded weakly, closing his eyes.  Could he hang on that long?  Could he survive more?

"Chills," she said.

The weak smile returned.  "Good.  Hot."

"No," she whispered.  "No…"

"Drink some more water," Matt told him, holding the glass out in C.J.'s direction.

The Brit left his window post, filling the glass and returning it to the major's hand.  Before he returned to his watch he reached out, giving Benny Ray's sweat-damp flat-top a gentle rub.  "You look terrible, mate."

The sniper laughed – a frail rasp.  "'Preciate that honest diagnosis."

"Anytime, mate," C.J. replied, his voice warm with concern.

Matt nodded to the window and C.J. returned to his post after offering the man a last supportive pat on his shoulder.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt's body jerked, and awareness returned.  He'd started to doze off.  Sitting next to Benny Ray's bed, he looked down at the man.  The sniper's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in unison with a low wheeze that passed for breath.  He wasn't sure what had changed, but something didn't feel the same.

He looked across the room.  Margo sat at the window Chance had guarded earlier, finishing off a bowl of something she had found in the cabinets earlier.  The pilot was delivering a cup of steaming tea to C.J., who scrubbed his eyes and mumbled, "Thanks."

Turning, Chance crossed to Shepherd.  "Plenty of this tea, Major.  Can I get you some?"

"Two big teaspoons of sugar, if you've got it," Shepherd said, nodding, then turned his attention back to Benny Ray.  What was different?  He scowled, leaning forward in his chair.  Was he sleeping?  Panic squeezed his heart.

"Benny Ray?" he called, loud enough to capture everyone's attention.

Margo set her bowl down and rushed across the room to join Matt.  Chance passed by, setting the major's tea on the hearth, then replaced Margo at the second window.  He glanced at C.J., who shook his head sadly and shrugged.  The two men sat in silence, watching.

"Benny Ray?" Margo called, kneeling next to the bed, her heart pounding.  She glanced at her watch.  _Four hours.  Oh, God…_

Reaching out, Matt checked the sniper's neck for a pulse, finding a steady if fast beat.  He closed his eyes in relief.

"Is he–?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"He's alive," Shepherd replied.  He gripped Benny Ray's uninjured shoulder and gave the man a light shake.  "Benny Ray?"

Riddle groaned, his eyes cracking open.  He blinked owlishly, then shivered.  "Time t' go?" he slurred thickly.

"Not yet," Matt said.  "Just wanted to see if you can keep some tea down," he lied, reaching for the cup. 

Benny Ray frowned, moaning softly.

"What?" Margo asked, reaching out to test the heat radiating off the sniper's forehead with the back of her hand.

"C-cold," he said, shivering again.  "G-guess the h-hot _was_ b-better."

Matt helped Riddle sit up, making sure to drape a blanket over the man's shoulders, then handed him the steaming cup.

Benny Ray lifted it to his lips, taking a careful sip, then a second.  "Ahh," he sighed.  "Warm."  His hands trembling slightly, he took another sip, then handed the cup back to Shepherd.

"You sure you don't want some more?" the major asked.

Benny Ray shook his head, shivering again, his face pinching with pain.

"You doing okay?" Chance called from his spot at the window.

The sniper looked up, meeting the pilot's gaze.  "Been better," he replied honestly.

Chance nodded, his expression sympathetic.

"Could be worse," C.J. added.

Benny Ray glanced over at the Brit.  "Worse?"

"Ya could be dead, mate."

The sniper nodded.  "M-might b-be 'n im-mprovement," he said, his body starting to shake.

"Don't even say that," Margo chided him softly.

Matt reached out and grabbed her arm.  "What's happening?"

From across the room C.J. asked, "Hey, Margo, you used this stuff before or something?  You know an awful lot about it."

"L-Leave the l-lady alone," Benny Ray growled.  "B-Better t' know w-what's c-comin'."

Margo looked from C.J. to Benny Ray.  "Chills," she said softly.  "And an ache that'll feel like someone's trying to crush your bones from the inside."

"S-Sounds like f-fun."

"Is there anything we can do?" Matt asked her.

She nodded.  "We have to cool him off."

"Cool–?" Matt started, then broke off.  His voice dropped to a low hiss.  "Are you crazy?  The chills–"

"I know what I'm doing," she replied, glowering at the major.

Benny Ray's body shook, and he curled into a ball on the bed.

Matt looked from the sniper to Margo.  "Tell me," he said sadly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The next hour passed in a nightmare of icy agony for Benny Ray.  Tied securely to the bed to keep the chills and cramps from contorting him into bone-breaking knots, he endured the cold clothes Margo placed over his bare skin.  Next to him, Shepherd sat, forcing him to remain awake and suffering.

"Damn… Major…" he panted weakly.  "I w-would've… t-told 'em… w-whatever they… w-wanted."

"Hang in there, Benny Ray," Matt said, reaching out to give the sniper's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Damn… h-hurts… like h-hell."

"I know, but it should be over soon.  Real soon," Shepherd assured.

"C-Cold… 'm so d-damned… c-cold."  Another bout of chills shuddered through his body and he moaned, a low, almost mournful sound that prickled the hairs on everyone's neck.  Inside it felt as if his bones were being slowly compressed flat.  A half-strangled sob broke free of his throat.

"Easy," Margo whispered next to his ear.

"C-Can't… c-can't do it… c-can't… no m-m-more…"

She peeled back the damp towels, her hands shaking with suppressed emotion.  "It's almost over."

Benny Ray moaned lowly, his head rolling weakly from side to side.  "C-Cold… s-so c-cold…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Just before dawn the chills and crushing pain finally lifted.  Benny Ray lay close to the fire, dressed in too-large clothes they'd found in the cabin and bundled in all the blankets they could find.  Margo helped him drink some tea, her hands wrapped over his to keep the cup steady.

"Major," Chance called softly.

Shepherd crossed the small cabin, scrubbing a hand over his tired eyes.  "What is it?" he asked as he joined the man.  "Trouble?"

Chance shook his head.  "Startin' to get light out there, sir."

Matt peered out the window.  "Okay, I want you and C.J. to head down to the beach.  Keep an eye out for our ride."

"Yes, sir," Chance replied, grabbing his MP5.  He passed by Benny Ray, reaching out to give him a quick, tender slap on the shoulder.  "Almost home, Benny Ray."

The sniper glanced up and tried to smile.  "Sure hope so."

"A promise, mate," C.J. added softly, also giving the sniper's shoulder a gentle pat before he followed Chance outside.

"Margo," Matt said, "take Chance's place at the window."

She nodded, moving over to the chair and sitting down, her gaze sweeping the shadows beyond the glass.

Matt knelt next to Benny Ray's bed, saying softly, "You think you can keep yourself awake a little while?"

"Will do, boss."

"Good," Matt replied.  "I want to make sure we don't have any uninvited visitors."

"I'll be fine," Benny Ray promised.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

For half an hour Matt and Margo kept up a steady stream of conversation with the injured sniper, forcing him to stay awake.  Then the major's communications unit _tsked_.  "Go," Shepherd said.

"Boat's here, major," Chance said.  "No activity."

"Roger.  We're on our way out."

Without hesitation, Margo and Matt headed straight for Benny Ray, helping him to his feet and supporting him between them as they headed outside.  Matt motioned Margo to take point.  She moved ahead ten yards while Matt wrapped his arm around Benny Ray's waist to help keep the sniper on his feet.

A few minutes later they were slogging through the surf and climbing into the boat.  The man at the wheel came about, heading north to Finland.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In Finland they were met by a young woman, a van, and an ambulance, which took Benny Ray to a local hospital.  The rest of them followed in the van with their new contact.

"I am Greta.  The doctors are waiting for him," the young woman said, tucking a strand of her shoulder-length light brown hair behind her ear.  "All will be well.  Rasputin has briefed me."

The woman looked entirely too young to be a Russian operative.  "Thank you," Matt said.

She nodded.  "And there is another man?"

The major nodded.  "Coltrain.  He's dead."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Pushing the door to Benny Ray's hospital room open, Shepherd stepped inside.  The sniper lay sleeping, various monitors beating out a reassuring steady rhythm.

With a heavy sigh Matt walked to the only chair in the room and sank down.  He closed his eyes, then rubbed them.  With Greta as a translator, he'd spoken to the doctor treating Benny Ray.  The physician had no idea that the sniper had been given the interrogation drug, and he didn't enlighten the man, Greta and Margo both assuring him that the physicians would know nothing about it.

Benny Ray had lost consciousness during the boat ride across the gulf, and still hadn't woken.  The doctor was concerned, but not overly so.  He had cleaned the knife wound and treated the shock.  Now an IV dripped steadily, replacing the man's fluids and stabilizing his body chemistry.  Greta had translated the precise details, but Matt couldn't remember them.  Not that it really mattered; the doctor had said that Benny Ray would be fine, and that was all he wanted to hear. 

Matt just hoped the doctor was right.  They'd know for sure once they got the sniper to England.  Trout was arranging their transportation to a top secret US/UK research facility near London.  Once there, the doctors would be able to tell if the interrogation drug had caused any lasting damage.

He shook his head.  _High tech torture.  Sometimes this business really sucks…_

But for the moment, Benny Ray was resting peacefully.  Matt stood and crossed to the bedside, looking down at the sniper.  Bruises were starting to darken on Benny Ray's face and neck, but under those his color was no longer the sallow yellow, or death-like grey they'd seen earlier.  _A good sign_.

"Hang in there, Benny Ray," Matt said softly, not wanting to wake the man.  "We're almost home."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray remained stable and unconscious during the flight to England.  Their trip to the research facility was made in two nondescript silver vans with tinted windows that were impossible to see through from the rear seats.

Once inside the facility they were assigned individual rooms that reminded the major of officers' quarters on-board a submarine.  Each of the team took hot showers, ate a large meal at the facility cafeteria, then headed directly to their borrowed beds for a solid eight hours of well-earned rest.

But too soon a soft buzzing sound woke Matt.  He sat up, scrubbing his hand over his face as he glanced around the room, trying to locate the source of the noise.  The black phone next to his bed.  He picked it up, fearing the worst.

"Hello?"

"Matt, good to hear your voice," Trout said.  "How's Mister Riddle?"

"I'm not sure," Shepherd admitted.  "I haven't talked to the doctors yet.  They said we wouldn't know anything for eight to ten hours."  He automatically checked his watch – seven hours of sleep.  It would do.

"Did you get some rest?"

"Yeah," Matt said, tossing back the blankets and standing.  Someone had courteously left civilian clothes for him on the empty surface of a small wooden writing desk.  "What's the plan for getting us home?"

"I'll let you know once you speak to the doctors.  As soon as they're ready to release Mister Riddle I'll make the necessary arrangements."

"Appreciate that," the major said.  "I'll be in touch."

"And Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Good work.  Tavda's in Moscow, and things have settled down.  The report on Yeltzin's death has been cleared up, and all seems well with Mother Russia, for the moment.  Thanks to you and your people."

"It came at a high cost, Trout.  Maybe too high."

"Coltrain?"

"And Benny Ray," Matt said, the anger clear in his voice.  "Everyone comes home, remember?  I had to leave him in the hands of– of… monsters!"

"Matt, I understand what you're saying, but you have to know, the lives of two men is a small price to pay for a country."

"Maybe I do," Matt said.  "And maybe I don't.  But what I do know is one man is dead and another suffered more than he should."

"Mister Riddle knew the risks, and so did Dennis Coltrain," Trout said, but his voice was sympathetic.

"That's not an excuse," Matt snapped.

"No, but it is an answer.  Come on, Matt, you did what you had to, and so did Coltrain and Riddle."

"Maybe, maybe," the major sighed.  "Look, I'm gonna go see if I can find a doctor."

"Keep me informed," Trout said.

Matt hung up the phone and dressed.  In the hall he saw Margo stepping out of her room.  "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"Come on," Matt said, "let's go find somebody with some answers."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

A few minutes later Matt and Margo were shown into Dr. David Twisleton's office – Chance and C.J. still hadn't emerged from their rooms, and Matt told the man who escorted them to the physician's office to let them sleep.  The room was small and Spartan, filled floor to ceiling with seven-foot-tall bookshelves that were tightly packed with texts and journals and filing cabinets that had stacks of additional files and journal reprints piled on top.  A small desk sat in the center of the room, two straight-back wooden chairs in front.  The two operators sat and waited.

Five minutes later the physician swept into the room and dropped into his chair.  A young woman followed him in, setting a tea service on the doctor's desk and smiling briefly at Matt as she left.  Twisleton pushed a lank of dark hair off his forehead and introduced himself.

Matt leaned out of his chair to shake the man's hand, noting that the man didn't look a day over twenty-one.

Twisleton gestured to the cups of tea setting on the silver serving tray.  Small silver containers of sugar cubes and thick cream also sat on the platter.  "Please, do help yourselves," he said, taking a cup for himself, stirring in a single sugar cube and a dollop of cream.  Leaning back in his chair, he took a sip from his bone China cup and sighed.

"Doctor, our friend–"

"Yes, right to the point, I understand," Twisleton interrupted Shepherd, but he met Margo's concerned gaze.  "You were right.  It _was_ Astrimtin.  Your man received a 1.67 milliliter dosage."

Margo sighed with relief.

The doctor ignored her reaction, continuing, "Your understanding of the drug's action and your treatment made all the difference, I can assure you."  He sipped his tea.  "We're flushing the remainder of the drug out of his system now, not that there was much left, and rebalancing his blood chemistry.  The physician in Finland did an adequate job of stabilizing him, but there's a little more work to be done."

"So he's going to be okay?" Matt asked.

Twisleton nodded.  "Yes.  Oh, yes.  There are no lasting side-effects for dosages under two milliliters…  Besides some residual soreness, maybe some cramping."

"Thank God," Matt said, finally resting back against his chair.

The doctor smiled brightly.  "Your chap should be ready to travel within twenty-four hours I'd guess.  He should wake any time now."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt sat in an uncomfortable folding chair next to Benny Ray's narrow bed.  The small room they were in was tucked into the back of a larger laboratory space where men and women bent over microscopes, or mixed chemicals under hooded tables.  He watched one young woman carefully measure out small amounts of a clear green liquid and wondered what it was.

A sudden cry made him jump, and Matt turned back to the bed, finding a wide-awake Benny Ray trying to climb out of bed.  He lunged, catching the man's shoulders and keeping him on the mattress.

"Benny Ray," he said loudly, capturing the man's attention.

The sniper looked up, meeting Shepherd's eyes for a moment before recognition registered.  "Major?"

"Take it easy," Matt said, holding the man's gaze.  "It's all over.  You're safe."

Benny Ray slumped back against his pillows.  "Where the hell am I?"

"England," Matt said with a small smile. 

"England?"

Shepherd nodded.  "You remember anything?"

Benny Ray lay with his eyes closed for several seconds before he said, "I remember gettin' caught… and you gettin' me out."

"That it?"

Another pause, and he said, "That cabin… Damn…"

"We left at dawn.  You were in Finland for about twenty-four hours before they flew you here."

Benny Ray opened his eyes and shook his head.  "Man, that shit was nasty.  I would'a told 'em whatever t' hell they wanted."

"Anyone would, Benny Ray," Matt said, reaching out to rest a hand on the man's uninjured shoulder.

"How's Dog-Man, uh, Dennis?"

Matt's head dipped.  "He– He didn't make it."

"Damn," Benny Ray breathed, his eyes closing for a moment, then blinking open again, only brighter.

"But now that you're awake I'll give Trout a call so he can get us out of here."

The sniper nodded, his eyes closing again.

Matt's fingers tightened on Benny Ray's shoulder.  "I'm sorry about Coltrain."

"Me, too," the sniper said, his eyes still closed.  "He was a good man.  A good friend."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know, but it's gonna feel like it for a while."

 _Tell me about it_ , Matt replied silently.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Thirty hours later the team was in the air, winging home on board a private cooperate jet, compliments of Trout.  Benny Ray sat with the others, looking like he'd just crawled out of a grave.  But he was drinking a cup of coffee, picking a bowl of fruit, and looked alert.

The sniper twisted his neck, trying to work the stiffness out.

"You okay?" Matt asked from his seat across from the man.

"Yeah," Benny Ray said, "just workin' out some of the kinks."

"How do you feel?" Margo asked, quickly adding, "besides the kinks?"

"Fine," the man drawled.  "Just a little sore."

"You are one lucky man," Chance said, flashing the sniper a smile."

"Better lucky than good lookin'," Benny Ray agreed.

"And some of us are lucky _and_ good looking," C.J. said in his best long-suffering voice.

"You wish!" Chance replied.

Matt shook his head.  The normalcy of the banter sounded very good to his ears.  They had survived another mission.  The doctor had assured him that Benny Ray would be back to peak condition in a week or two, and it looked like the team was already getting back to their old selves.  And it felt good, damned good.  _Everyone comes home_.

 _Was it worth it?_ a part of his mind asked.

 _Yes_ , another answered.  _We did what we had to do.  And we did it the best way we could.  In this line of work people die, but we all know the price we might pay... including Benny Ray.  I did everything I could, and I got him out of there.  That's the best I could do.  I have to let it go now._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Three days after returning home, the team attended Dennis Coltrain's funeral.  Benny Ray delivered a moving eulogy at the memorial service in front of a church full of active and retired Marines before heading for the cemetery.  The small graveside service was only attended by Dennis' widow and their two children, his parents, Benny Ray, and a handful of the man's closest friends.  They listened to the pastor's words, then, as "Taps" played, a small honor guard gave Dennis "Dog-Man" Coltrain a three-gun salute.

The flag draping the coffin was carefully folded and handed over to Elisa Coltrain, who cradled the cloth to her breast as they lowered Dennis' casket into the ground.

When the service was over, Dennis' friends each whispered private words of encouragement and sympathy to Elisa before kissing her tear-stained cheek and walking somberly away.  Benny Ray waited until only the man's parents remained before he approached the woman, his throat tight with emotion.

Elisa reached out and embraced him in a heart-felt tight hug.

"I'm so sorry, Elisa," he whispered into her soft red-blonde hair, his voice sharp with grief.

She nodded against his shoulder.  "I know, Benny Ray, I know."

"You know I can't tell you what he was doin', but–"

She raised a hand, her fingers pressing lightly against his lips.  "It's okay, I know the drill."  She met the sniper's sad gaze.  "But I have t' tell you, Benny Ray, he was goin' crazy.  A few months and I think he would've left us."

Benny Ray shook his head.  "He loved you too much for that."

"He loved the job, too.  He was meant to be a Marine.  He died doing what he wanted, Benny Ray."

The sniper nodded.  "I think you're right, but I'm still sorry.  You and the kids–"

"We'll be okay," she said, her voice and her grip strong.  "We will.  Their daddy was a hero, and I loved him something fierce.  I won't let them forget him."

Benny Ray dipped his head, kissed the top of her head and held her close, letting his tears finally fall.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Back at the Silver Star, Benny Ray walked into the basement, tugging his black tie loose.

The others looked up from where they sat, scattered around the room, still wearing the clothes they had worn to the funeral.

"How'd it go?" Margo asked quietly, noting the sniper's puffy eyes.

Benny Ray nodded, but didn't reply.  He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator.  Walking back out to join the others, he sat down on the end of the couch.  "It was a… nice good-bye."

"What about his wife?" Matt asked softly.

"Elisa's a strong lady.  She'll be okay," Benny Ray said softly, then took a long drink from the bottle.

"I heard from Trout," Matt said quietly.  "The trust fund is all taken care of."

The sniper nodded, but his gaze was locked on the bottle.  "'Preciate it, Boss."

C.J. lifted the soda he was drinking in a toast.  "To a good man who died too soon," he said.

Benny Ray looked up.

The Brit continued, "That money'll go a long way to making Mrs. Coltrain's life a little easier."

"We all chipped in some from what Trout paid us," Chance added.  "She and her kids won't want for anything, Benny Ray.  That's a promise."

The sniper's eyes widened slightly.  "Y'all didn't have to do–"

"We wanted to, Benny Ray," Margo interrupted.  The others nodded.

"He was a good friend," Benny Ray said, then lifted his bottle.  "To a good friend, a damned good spotter, and one helluva Marine.  He went the way he wanted to…"  He glanced around the room.  "The way we all want to."

"Amen to that," Chance echoed.  "In the thick of it, at the top of my game."

C.J. nodded.  "For a damned good reason."

"For peace," Margo said softly.

"I'll drink to that," Matt said, and they all raised their drinks to salute another fallen comrade, and the ones who were still standing.

"Thanks for bringin' me home," Benny Ray added, studying the label of his beer.

"Well, we couldn't leave you there, mate," C.J. said.

Benny Ray looked up, noting the grin on the man's face.  The corners of his lips tugged up, knowing the punch line was coming.  It was damned good to be home, and ready to fight another day…

The End


End file.
